England's Catapult
by NejiKikyoAnimeRose
Summary: Operation Catapult: With Germany closing in on the English Channel, England has to prevent him from gaining access to France's fleet at any cost, or it's over for him and the Allies. But just how far will he have to go for the sake of national security?
1. Under Control

England stared silently out of the window of number 10 Downing Street, waiting for the new Prime Minister. He was scheduled to arrive momentarily. England smirked as he pictured the portly Winston Churchill climbing out of a fancy limousine instead of that small Austin 8 he drove before he became Prime Minister.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered to himself as the pristine Rolls-Royce limo pulled up to the house. England watched as the newly appointed Prime Minister climbed from the car and strode purposefully towards the door. With a curt noise of approval, England stepped away from the window and walked towards the door.

He always loved this part. It was like revealing a grand present to a child. Whenever meeting the new Prime Minister or even a new monarch, England would always try to subtly make the meeting as climactic as possible.

He found Churchill in the main hall and waited for him to remove his coat and hat before stepping forward to begin the introductions. The man looked at him as he stepped forward, inclined his head, and extended his hand.

"Prime Minister," he began. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I have the pleasure of informing you that we are going to be working very closely for these next several years."

England noted that Churchill made no point of hiding his scrutiny. He looked England over once, turned to the man who had followed him inside waiting for orders or to be dismissed, and dismissed him. When he turned back to England, his mouth lifted into a naturally crooked smile, and he firmly grasped England's hand.

"I have heard of you," he said and England noted a slight nasally quality to the sound of Churchill's words that belied his previous image of the Prime Minister. "A man worth admiring and one of the few whom many have met and can all agree to respect. It is a privilege to meet you." Absently, England noticed a slight lisp of Churchill's words that softened his tone in a most unusual way. England smiled.

"Thank you, Prime Minister," he replied. "If you don't mind, sir, might I invite you to take tea upstairs?" Churchill gave a small nod and a short wave of his hand. England led on.

Once the two reached what was now Churchill's private study, England turned to the Prime Minister, prepared to speak – and drop the bomb that he happened to be a human manifestation of a country.

"I had heard I would be meeting you rather soon, Mr. Kirkland." However, Churchill beat him to it. Slightly surprised by his initiative, England nodded.

"Yes, Prime Minister, that is indeed the case," he replied. "As I now have something rather important to tell you." Churchill nodded and waited with what must have been an expressionless face. England opened his mouth to continue and paused.

"Have you been made aware of this ahead of time, Mr. Prime Minister?" he asked suddenly. Churchill looked at him and that small smile was back on his face.

"His Majesty might have mentioned something," he said easily. England resisted his own grin and continued.

"Very well," he said. "Then I shall be blunt. You don't seem like the type of man who likes beating around the bush. I am a physical manifestation of this country." There it was. Churchill was looking at him with that same expressionless face but England had the feeling that there was probably more scrutinizing going on.

"Do you have any questions?" England asked when Churchill said nothing. Churchill remained silent for a moment.

"Are all other nations like this?" he inquired. England nodded.

"Yes," he said. "Most of us were born many hundreds of years ago and have grown and matured as our country has. Some are older than others and we, all of us, have quite a history together. We have human given names, for obvious reasons, I believe – I was not lying when I said that my name is Arthur Kirkland – however, primarily we are referred to as our respective country. Many of my peers call me 'England', however some call me 'Arthur'. You may call me whichever you like, or 'Mr. Kirkland' should that be most amenable to you." Churchill moved to the desk facing away from the window, where the tray of brandy was waiting for him.

"Is there any significance to this state of being?" Churchill asked after a sip of brandy. England gave him a wry and slightly boyish shrug.

"I have no idea," he replied. "I've always believed it was some cruel prank of Providence that abstract concepts are given human emotions and forms. It all seems rather unfair at times.

"But, as of now, the only significance I have to offer you is that of another government official. Which I hope is sufficient, given the amount of time I've had to work at it." Churchill chuckled into his glass as he took another drink. He reached out to the second glass and filled it. England thanked him when he offered it and the two toasted their mutual political success in the years to come.

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><p>10 May 1940. – Today Winston Churchill has become our new Prime Minister and, as is regular, has been informed of my status and condition in regards to the country and the government. He took it rather well. Unfortunately, all of my fun in revealing my "condition" was completely sucked away when he told me His Majesty had informed him ahead of time.<p>

Of course the oaths have been sworn and now I feel an overwhelming sense of relief. I must confess I was pushing rather hard for Winston Churchill to be made Prime Minister. I don't feel that any others would be capable of making up for Chamberlain's incredible blunder.

More importantly in regards to current matters, I feel that Churchill is more than capable of orchestrating the defeat of the German forces which have been haranguing Europe long enough now. Our military strength, combined with that of France's (odd though that may sound) should be more than adequate for restoring peace to this continent before the start of another so-called "Great War." So long as France can hold the Germans at bay (which is simple enough, as he has the benefit of the Maginot Line) the Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force can bombard and blockade as support. Germany will be stopped here or so help me God I will kill France.

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><p><strong>Takes place at the start of World War II. Sorry I didn't specify that in the summary... there wasn't enough room...<br>**

**Yay historical fic! Woo. This is an experiment for me, and I'm kind of just putting it out there for people to see and decide if they like or don't like. If I continue this, the basic format will be as it is in this first chptr (although this might change a bit); that is with the narration of the story followed by a journal entry or document written by or somehow involving England. Not everything in the narration before the document (usually a journal entry) will happen on the same day that document was written, though. Just a heads up. But it will always occur before and/or on the day the document was written, never after. For obvious reasons.  
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**Inspiration for this: I was watching a very interesting documentary the other day and decided to try my hand at a fic based around it. If you're interested in the documentary, it was a PBS one called "Secrets of the Dead: Winston Churchill's Deadly Decision." I loved it, it made me cry, and I thought of England and France. No pairings. No implied feelings of love, please. Just the story about something between them that was irreparably damaged (or almost irreparably damaged) by this decision.**

**I own nothing Hetalia (except the wallscrolls in my room), and this is the only time I will ever give a disclaimer, because it should be obvious.  
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	2. Worse Than We Thought

France watched in apprehensive and expectant silence from his defensive position as the German panzers continued to close in. He could feel the fear of the Allied soldiers behind him radiating throughout the Belgian countryside as they all waited for the Germans.

Beside him, Belgium stood tall and ready and France felt a sickening mixture of guilt and pride run through his body. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, taking a moment to compose himself, before looking back to the open land before him in silence.

He had a terrible feeling about this.

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><p>"Prime Minister we've received a call from the French high command," England said urgently, pushing past the flustered secretary who tried to inform him that Churchill was in an important meeting and could not be bothered. The Prime Minister immediately stood to his feet and waved away the other official who looked quite surprised at the sudden intrusion.<p>

"Yes?" Churchill asked. England was impatient and turned back to the door. "If you would follow me, sir, we still have the French Prime Minister on the line." Churchill was a very fast walker when he wanted to be, England observed absently.

Soon, Churchill had the phone in his hand and was listening with a grave expression as Prime Minister Reynaud repeated his stunning message.

"The French line has been broken," Churchill repeated, once back in his private office. England paced slowly behind him and stared down at the desk which held blank papers waiting for Churchill's orders.

"The Ardennes," England specified, referring to the forest that should have provided a natural barrier against the German tanks. "The Germans have broken completely through. Our fighting contingent in Belgium is being encircled and pushed toward the coast. Meanwhile the larger force of the Allied army, which is manning the Maginot Line, has been rendered completely useless while the Germans are free to roam northern France. Thankfully, our expeditionary force as well as the cream of France's army has not yet been cut off from the coast."

Churchill sighed and rubbed tenderly at his forehead.

"Do you know how close they are to the channel?" he asked, almost as though he dreaded the answer. England felt numb as he answered.

"No less than forty kilometers," he replied. Churchill was silent. Waiting for him to speak was almost painful for England and he was tempted to speak, if only to break the silence, but he forced himself to wait.

"The expeditionary force has no hope of fighting its way through the Germans," Churchill finally said in a low voice. England wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or not.

"The force had hoped to link up with the French and Belgian army to stop the advance. Thus far, they haven't had much success." Again, Churchill said nothing and merely turned to the window. England watched him in silence.

"Sir, the Royal Navy—" he began.

"Is scattered around the globe," Churchill finished for him. England closed his mouth for a moment, his brow furrowing.

"It's the only hope we have of keeping the Germans out of England should it come to that," he pressed onward, purposefully not specifying what "that" was. They both knew what he meant. If the Germans made it to the channel, they were done for. "We have to call the ships back to Britain. What we have now is not enough." Churchill turned to face England, his face falling to a grave expression, grim in its determination.

"Ready what we have regardless," he said. "We will not be sitting ducks when the Germans decide they want to cross the channel. And French Prime Minister Reynaud has asked that I fly to Belgium tomorrow to deliberate. We leave early." England nodded curtly.

"Sir." He turned and walked swiftly out of the room, formulating the words he was going to thrust at the Admiralty already. A lead weight was slowly forming in his stomach as he walked, his thoughts shifting to the ships stationed at ports in India, Africa, Canada. They were all too far away for him to gather them together in advance of a German invasion.

And what of France?

England rubbed his hand roughly over his forehead and paused in his quick stride to close his eyes and breathe in a shallow clipped breath. _Damn French, you'd better well not surrender…_

He resumed his walk down to the secretary.

"I want Sir Pound of the Admiralty here now," he ordered in a firm tone. The secretary nodded and soon England found himself on the phone with First Sea Lord Sir Dudley Pound.

"Kirkland, Lord Pound, this is an urgent request from the Prime Minister; ready the ships currently at our disposal and give out a call to all other ships in both India and Africa to return to Britain as swiftly as possible."

The conversation didn't last very long and was, for the most part, very one-sided. When England returned upstairs to Churchill, he found the man pacing by his desk, his eyes focused forward in a solemn gaze.

"It's done, Prime Minister," England announced, closing the door behind him and moving into the room.

"It will not be enough," Churchill responded, his voice deepening as though to convey the truth England was apparently not understanding. England's brow furrowed.

"Well, what else can we do?" he asked sharply. "Anything other than preparing our own ships would be a gamble, and—"

"War is a gamble," Churchill spoke resolutely. "A response of any other kind would be ineffective." He moved quickly around to the other side of his desk and sat down. Cigar clutched between his lips, Churchill reached into a drawer and pulled out several pieces of paper, placing them down on the desk. He gripped one of the fountain pens in the cup by the corner and placed it atop the parchment. Looking up at England, Churchill's face adopted something of a wry look.

"I don't believe this was included in the description when you took this job," he said. "However, I would rather this not get out too quickly to our friends in the media." He stood.

"Would you dictate a letter for me?" he asked. England's thick eyebrows lifted. His lips twitched upward into a small smirk and he walked around the table and took Churchill's place at the desk. He took the fountain pen in hand and sat down as Churchill rounded to the front of the room and began to pace.

"Who is receiving it?" England inquired. Churchill exhaled the smoke from his cigar and removed it from his mouth.

"President Roosevelt."

England looked up at Churchill, his eyes hardening for a moment.

"America?" Images of the boisterous country's face filled his mind for a moment and the residual sadness that had never really left him since the day America had declared his independence took a jab at his chest. It was easily and effortlessly forced down. Churchill merely looked at him, saying nothing. England wordlessly wrote the aforementioned president's name onto the paper.

"From Churchill to Roosevelt," the paper read. England looked back up expectantly at Churchill.

"Whenever you're ready, Prime Minister." Churchill nodded and resumed his pacing, alternating between inhaling and exhaling the smoke from his cigar.

"The scene has darkened swiftly. You may have a completely subjugated Nazified Europe established with astonishing swiftness…" And on. England took down the words as quickly as Churchill spoke them, and with every written word, the heavy truth that Nazi Germany was a real threat sank further into his soul like a bloody brand. England's teeth gritted together painfully in his tightly closed mouth, his eyes began to burn from the effort it took to keep them from blinking, his body was rigid with tension as he wrote Churchill's urgent message.

Somewhere in that bloody frog's country, the bloody King of Frogs was fighting off an army of Nazis, trying to hold the front a little longer to keep them from getting further into his country. Somewhere across the channel, the Nazis were pushing closer to them, closer to _him_. _Closer to me and my people._ England gripped the pen tightly and clenched his eyes shut.

"I'll get this sent out as a telegram immediately, Prime Minister," England said once Churchill was finished, standing up with the finished note and moving around the desk toward the door. He received no response but the sound of the door bidding him goodbye as it shut and rang loudly in his ears.

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><p>America watched proudly from the small crowd of officials as his president took to the podium and began his speech. He felt a very familiar excited energy boil up within him but he kept it under very careful control, the only sign of his excitement being the way his hands squeezed one another behind his back.<p>

The tux he wore was only mildly uncomfortable as Roosevelt pledged to the Americans that he would not get America caught in the midst of another European war. Their primary interest was their country, what was going on within America, now what was going on within England or France or Germany.

"The United States of America—" _That's me,_ America thought proudly as Roosevelt spoke confidently to his citizens. "—Shall and must remain un-entangled and free." The crowd exploded into loud applause and cheers as Roosevelt gave his speech, agreeing wholeheartedly with his claim that American interventionism would only bring them down as a nation.

When the speech was finished, Roosevelt back in the Oval Office, America decided it best to pay a visit to the president.

"Mr. President," he greeted as he entered the office. Once the door was closed, America grinned at the man. "Nice speech, you gave out there. I think they liked it." Roosevelt chuckled and redirected his attention to the telegram that hadn't left his desk since he'd received it earlier that day. America's smile slipped from his face as he followed Roosevelt's gaze.

"I thought you already decided what you were going to say to that," he said carefully. He didn't want to cross a line, but he was a little annoyed that Roosevelt was giving this so much thought. Doing so right then would not be good for the election.

Roosevelt shook his head.

"These things take some consideration," he said patiently, looking over the document. "What do you think about this?" America tensed.

"I already told you what I think," he said tersely.

"Well, tell me again," the president ordered firmly. America fidgeted and looked away.

"Britain's an idiot who dragged us into one 'Great War' because he wasn't prepared," he muttered. Raising his voice somewhat to give himself an air of confidence, America went on, "If we get ourselves involved in another conflict in Europe, your chances of reelection are shot. They can handle themselves across the pond." The words sounded petty and forced even to his ears. Roosevelt held up the telegram.

"The Prime Minister sounds incredibly urgent in this telegram," he pointed out. America scoffed.

"That's because he just wants to get us involved so he doesn't have to throw too many resources into nipping this thing in the bud," he sniped, only mildly uncertain. "They're prepared this time, aren't they? They've made sure something like this wouldn't happen again. Fool me once, shame on you, right?" President Roosevelt shook his head.

"I don't believe we have any reason to doubt the severity of the situation as Prime Minister Churchill has relayed it to us," he said with a tone of finality. America silently disagreed but he decided to keep those feelings to himself for the time being. Better not to get into an unnecessary argument about this when they had better things to worry about.

"However, I do agree that I should continue with the non-interventionist platform," Roosevelt went on. "At this point, America is far too vehemently opposed to being involved in another war in Europe that my chance at reelection certainly would be shot if I so much as suggested intervention."

At this, America's smile returned and he nodded. _That_ he agreed with.

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><p>England's Private Record<p>

15 May 1940. – I simply do not understand how something so simple could turn out to be so difficult!

I have received a distress call from France giving me some very unpleasant news, to put it lightly. German tanks have pushed past the French forces and are now pushing fast towards the coasts. Germany's targets are, doubtless, French ports, from which he and his army can access one of the largest and most potent fleets in the world. Alone, the Frog's ships can only so much as hassle my Royal Navy, however, with German ships, they could pose a very real threat to the safety and stability of this nation.

What is more, my fleet is woefully unprepared to face such an assault. All of the Navy's ships are scattered, many of them in India and the north of Africa, defending the ports of my colonies. If the Germans keep moving at this alarming rate, I will have no time to organize my fleet in preparation of a German invasion of Britain.

Thankfully, Churchill was quick to seek American help – though I shudder at the necessity – as the current American president and he go rather far back, both being navy boys and both having known each other for some time. I feel confident that America, especially considering our own personal history as well, cannot refuse his request for warships. Whether he likes it or not, America will be a target if Britain goes down.

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><p><strong>Ha! I'm still alive! Not that many people are reading this, but whatever! Here's chpter two! If things get a bit confusing with all the names in there, here's a helpful list!<strong>

**Lord Pound - Essentially he's the head of the Admiralty at the time, which is in charge of everything naval in England.  
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**British Expeditionary Force - The soldiers England sent to France and Belgium to help keep the Germans out of France. Escaped back to England in the infamous Dunkirk Evacuation  
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**Prime Minister Reynaud - The French Prime Minister.  
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**The Ardennes - Very extensive forest region mainly in Belgium and Luxembourg, but extending into France. The Germans surprised the Allies by breaking through this region (which was thought to be impassable) with their panzers.  
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**And I hope that clears some things up! If not, then I apologize and I'll try to edit it! Enjoy!**


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